


Literary Prowess

by GoodbyeBlues



Series: Investigative Journalism [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Cacti - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Science Nerd Bucky Barnes, Smut, Super Supportive Steve, Writer Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues
Summary: Bucky Barnes has a lot of good ideas. Sometimes they just happen to come at three in the morning.A continuation of the Investigative Journalism universe, in which Bucky earns himself a new writing career, and maybe a few other things too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel silly posting a chapter under 1000 words, as this is more of a tease than anything, really, but I feel like putting this out there will be a good kick in the butt to make me write faster. It is very late and I have no idea where this fic will go, or how long it will be, but thanks for taking this journey with me, as always, you lovely people. <3

 

 

“ _ Psst, Steve. _ ” Bucky’s voice was a whisper in the quiet of their bedroom, the only other sound the gentle tick of the vintage alarm clock Steve kept on his nightstand. 

 

There was no answer from Bucky’s bedmate. He would have to try harder. 

 

“Steve.” Normal volume this time, along with the light jostling of a well-muscled shoulder.  

 

“Nuhhh.” Steve’s noise wasn’t much, but it was a start. Bucky needed results though, like asap. 

 

“Psst! Steve!” Full volume now, and a shove for good measure, plus the flick of the lamp on Bucky’s side of the bed. 

 

Steve shot up, pressing his palms into his (probably burning, sorry Steve!) eyes, before turning to face Bucky in the bed, a worried expression on his startled face. He had a slight pillow crease on his left cheek. It matched the crease between his concerned looking eyebrows. It was cute.

 

“Are you ok?” Steve was looking Bucky over carefully before glancing around the lit room, searching for possible nighttime injuries or home invaders. Neither of those things were the reason for his abrupt awakening, but that didn’t mean Bucky had woken him up for no reason at all. He wasn’t an idiot. 

 

“No, I’m not ok. How do they measure the distance between stars and stuff? I need to know.”

 

Steve blinked a few times before running his hands back over his face in an attempt to wipe his exhaustion away.

 

“...What?” His voice was less alarmed currently, shifting quickly into thorough confusion. The eyebrow crease remained, although the pillow one was fading quickly. 

 

Bucky sighed. This was taking longer than he thought. 

 

“Steve, please, pull yourself together and use your noodle. You’re smart. How do astronomers know how far apart the stars and planets and stuff are?” 

 

Steve just blinked again, like a little fawn in a fairytale forest. Yeesh. This sleepy/cute thing he had going on was adorable, but it brought no answers. And Bucky needed answers. For science. 

 

“I don’t… Did you Google it?” Steve sounded extremely weary now. 

 

Bucky glanced at the clock. The time had just danced across the 3 a.m mark. Huh. No wonder Steve was tired. 

 

“I didn’t. That’s a good idea. But you should probably get some sleep Steve. It’s three in the morning for Christ’s sake!” Bucky flicked off the lamp and shoved Steve back into a lying position before he pulled the blankets back up over his shoulders, tucking him in and petting him on the head for a moment, a quiet thank you.

 

Steve muttered something unintelligible before smushing his face back into the pillow and closing his eyes again. 

 

Bucky pulled his phone off the nightstand, the glow from the screen lighting up his face slightly. 

 

“Siri, how do astronomers know how far apart the stars are?” 

 

Steve groaned in the dark.

 

* * *

It was ok though, because that night was the start of something new. 

 

When Steve woke up at a more reasonable time later that morning, he found Bucky snoozing peacefully beside him, half propped up in bed, his laptop in sleep mode on his chest. As Steve lifted the computer away he accidentally hit the touchpad and the screen blinked back to life, revealing sixty three pages of original fiction, of cosmonauts, deep space and exoplanets, cosmic rays and black holes. There were the beginnings of interstellar battles, orbital eccentricities and meteor showers, newly discovered galaxies with ancient cities, developing romances and secret betrayals, all being held carefully together by an unfolding journey along a literal cosmic distance ladder. 

 

It was captivating, rich and alive and complex, and Steve was taken in, held tight quickly and securely in this beautifully unyielding universe. Steve read the entire thing before Bucky woke up, and was halfway through his second read when Bucky began to stir, questions about light-years and parsecs leaving his lips before he had even fully opened his eyes. 

 

Steve didn't groan again. In fact, he regretted the first groan. Because this was something else, something special, and he knew it immediately.

This was the beginning of Bucky Barnes' first best seller. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky begins to realize that his work may have the potential to be something more than expected, and Steve responds to good news with delightful enthusiasm.

 

 

Bucky drummed his fingers nervously on the table. “Well?”

 

Natasha looked up from where she was once again skimming the document on the laptop, taking a delicate sip of coffee before answering. “It’s good. Really good. You’ve got something special here Barnes.”

 

Bucky wasn’t sure whether he wanted to melt into the floor from contentment or collapse with relief. He’d been working on his story (he wasn’t ready to actually call it a novel yet, that was too much too fast) for the past three months, and he had finally finished it a week ago, reading it over one final time before passing the finished product on to Steve. Bucky was pretty sure he had never seen Steve so enthusiastic about anything the way he had been about Bucky’s work, and he was ultimately the one who encouraged Bucky to send it along to Natasha for a proof read. She had read it this week and had agreed to meet Bucky for coffee to go over her thoughts on it. Bucky’s hands felt slightly sweaty still as he gripped his mug. He could count on Natasha to be brutally honest, and had been a little nervous to receive her criticism. But this was ... good news. He didn’t really know what to do with it.

 

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish with this creation, but it had felt right to put words down on a page again lately. He had felt a little lost since he'd left Pulse, and although he didn’t miss working there, he missed writing in general, that feeling of having accomplished something at the end of the day, produced something he could put his name on and be proud of, even if it had been related to superficial celebrity sightings.

 

It was a tricky line to walk, his current lack of employment, and some days he felt better about it than others. Steve had assured him months ago that they were pretty much set for life, and that whole conversation had left Bucky’s stomach swirling weirdly for a week, the expression of Steve’s unshakable devotion mixed with Bucky’s own lack of contribution to anything tangible causing him to feel slightly uneasy. Having Steve basically flat-out say that this was it for him, that Bucky could do whatever he wanted now, as long as he was happy, because Steve ‘wasn’t going anywhere,’ was more than a little overwhelming. Bucky had so many options, but no real direction anymore, and while sitting around being cared for was nice sometimes, it wasn’t a life he ultimately wanted for himself.

 

He tried not to think of how useless he was currently, just glomming on to Steve’s wealth, instead focusing on what that moment had actually meant for them. He knew Steve loved him, and Bucky loved him back, that wasn’t even a question. But to have Steve just come out and say that this was endgame for him, so casually, so easily as they waited for their toast to pop, it was enormous. Bucky still felt all gooey thinking about it now, his stomach fluttering happily as he thought of Steve at home, painting, or reading, or planning some charity thing with Sarah, probably looking all attractive in the process. Steve had just smiled that day and put jam on Bucky’s toast, sliding the plate across the counter like it was no big deal before taking a bite of his own breakfast. Bucky was about ready to collapse on the floor at that point, utterly love struck, but had sat like a normal human and eaten his meal instead, a dopey smile on his face. The little bit of niggling guilt though, the tiny pinch at the back of his brain telling him he needed to do more, add more, give more and not let Steve carry him, had never quite silenced itself.

 

With Natasha sitting in front of him now, confidently chattering away about the quality of his work, what he could do with it, and the connections she had to get it into the right hands, Bucky felt like he may have finally found his footing again when it came to unearthing his new career.

 

* * *

 

Steve was in his studio when Bucky walked into the apartment later that day, a smudge of paint on his cheek as he popped his head out of the room upon hearing Bucky’s arrival.  

 

“Soooo?” There was a cheeky smile on his face, and Bucky felt his own smile grow even wider in response. Steve had this ability to be 100% confident about things, somehow without coming off like an arrogant dick for it, emitting more of an ‘I knew you could do it!’ vibe over an ‘I told you so!’ one. It was really sweet, like having a personal cheerleader 24/7.

 

Bucky couldn’t help but move in his direction as Steve drifted towards him, and they came together easily in the middle of the living room, Bucky wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and meeting his lips with a warm kiss. Steve made a little noise in the back of his throat, pleasure and surprise, and Bucky deepened his motions, opening his mouth and licking into Steve’s gently, eager and sure. Steve sighed into it, his body becoming more lax as Bucky held him tighter, and Bucky started moving his hands up and down his torso before Steve’s eyes flickered open and he pulled back, slightly breathless.

 

“That’s… not an answer.” Steve was still leaning a little heavily on him, and his voice was rougher than usual, but his stubbornly adorable level of care would not be deterred, even for A+ kisses.

 

Bright blue eyes were looking up at him expectantly, and Bucky brushed his thumb over the paint on Steve’s cheek before speaking. “She liked it. She wants me to send it to a publisher.”

 

Steve’s expression shone like the fucking sun, but he kept his voice carefully neutral when he spoke. “And what do you want to do?”

 

Bucky tried to keep the excitement off his face, but it was a losing battle, given what had happened today. “I said yes. We should hear back in a few weeks if anyone's interested.”

 

Steve’s lips were back on his very quickly now, his restraint a thing of the past as he pulled Bucky down to the floor and began removing clothing with perfect efficiency.

 

The cacti on the windowsill averted their eyes, attention set firmly on the sun shining through the window rather than the commotion on the floor behind them. This was nothing new though, not really, so they didn’t mind too much when A+ kisses were involved. They were just happy their roommates got along so well.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I still don't know how long this will be, but it's very much not over yet. :) <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get down and dirty (in a garden, grow up guys!) and Bucky gets an important phone call.

 

 

Things happened surprisingly quickly after that. 

 

Bucky should have known, considering he was utilizing Natasha as an unofficial agent, and her level of commitment and span of reach when it came to getting things done was remarkable. 

 

He didn’t really know how she did it, but a few weeks after Natasha had edited his final draft and had submitted it to a few of her publisher friends, (Bucky had no idea who these people were, or how Nat knew them, but he trusted her judgement implicitly) Bucky found himself answering a call from an unknown number. He was also trying to wrangle a small herd of children into a little schoolyard garden currently. Steve liked to pop in on the afterschool program his family had helped sponsor once in awhile, providing brightly-smiled tips and golden enthusiasm as he coached children into summoning zucchinis and beans from the ground. Steve had been called by the school in a slight panic that morning, the regular program leader out with the flu, and Steve, being Steve, had agreed to step in immediately. 

 

Bucky felt a sense of  déjà vu as he got the last child into place and pulled out his cell phone, heading for a shady looking tree to answer as Steve shot him a grateful smile before diving into the dirt with both hands. Today’s lesson was on like, earthworms or something. It was dirty looking, but Steve, and the kids, already looked like they were having fun.

 

Bucky was staring at his perfect happy face when the voice on the other line startled him back to the present. “James Barnes?”

 

“Uh yes. This is he.” 

 

“This is Maria Hill from Shield Publishing. Would you have a moment to discuss your submission to us?”

 

Oh my god. 

 

“Uh, yes.” This was not exactly the eloquent response he would have liked to give, but Bucky was caught a little off-guard, and this Maria Hill didn’t seem to mind so much. She sounded cool and professional, very business-like. He could see why Natasha kept her in her net of people. Bucky had no doubt he was dealing with a kick-ass lady right now. 

 

“We’ve read your work and would like to meet with you to discuss a possible deal. Would you be available to come in this week?”

 

“Uh, yes.” Oh my god Barnes, get it together. “Yes,” he repeated, mind reeling, “I’m free. What day are you thinking?”

 

He set a time and date with Maria, three days from now, and slumped back against the generous and supportive tree behind him when the call ended. He looked up from his phone to see Steve jogging over, concern etched between his brows, his hands thankfully clean as he reached out to place one on Bucky’s forehead. 

 

“Oh Buck. The heat again?” Blue eyes were worried as they also remembered what happened the last time Bucky was in a garden for an extended period of time. Bucky and heat didn’t go well together, they had discovered. 

 

“No, I’m good.” Bucky was a little slow to respond, but it was from shock more than anything. “I have a meeting in three days with a publishing company. They read my story and want to discuss a possible deal.”

 

Steve pulled him behind the tree quickly and smothered him with his body, squeezing Bucky until it felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. 

 

“Ok! Ok! Thank you Steve!” Bucky was trying to breathe, but Steve was relentless. 

 

Steve let him go and was doing this funny little excited pacing thing, absolute joy on his face as he kept one eye on the kids and one eye on Bucky. The eye on Bucky was getting onto eye-fuck territory, (how did he do that? Have one eye be a schoolyard supervisor while the other eye got all hot and bothered? It was a fucking mystery) and Bucky was definitely experiencing  déjà vu now. Earthworms, earthworms, earthworms. Garden things, dirt. Don’t get aroused.

 

“I’m so proud of you Buck!” Steve’s thousand-watt grin was blinding, and Bucky finally gave in, allowing himself one (ONE!) restrained kiss behind the tree before Steve had to dart back over to the group of kids, his sunny smile a now permanent fixture as he helped a little boy pull a stubborn weed from the soil. 

 

Bucky leaned back against the tree and smiled. Things were coming together, and it was really fucking scary, but scary in a good way, in a way that felt full of purpose, that exciting scary he had felt when he had looked at Steve in the beginning of their (fake, and then real) relationship and felt his stomach flip. 

 

Bucky watched Steve now, the way his large hands guided tiny kids to kneel in the dirt next to him, the way he leaned down so a shy looking girl could whisper in his ear about her tiny patch of flowers in her garden at home. It made his throat all wiggly and his heart pump fast, to see Steve so capable and caring around these little humans, and then Steve would look up at him, and smile even wider, and Bucky felt like the center of the universe, the apex of the world with those blue eyes on him. 

 

Bucky could do anything with Steve looking at him like that. Maybe even publish a novel. 

 

Bucky moved away from the tree and dropped down into the dirt next to Steve, bumping his shoulder slightly as he put his hands in the cool earth. Steve bumped him back with a smile and continued on with the lesson, helping things grow under the warm afternoon sun.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still all finding this series interesting! There will be more plotty things to come! This will probably be a longer story than any of the other follow-ups from the original because I want to see this novel thing through, and also maybe add some *drama* (ack!) if possible. Thanks for sticking with me! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A novel becomes a reality as Bucky's priorities get jumbled up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the delay, it was a holiday weekend here and I had company staying with me so couldn't get much writing done, but please enjoy this chapter, and make sure to read the end note when you are done if you are feeling too many feels and get worried <3

 

 

“Stop it.”

 

Bucky’s hand was swatted away from where it was tugging at the collar of his dress shirt, his nervous energy apparently too much for Natasha to take right now.

 

They were sitting in the lobby of Shield Publishing, and Bucky was trying desperately not to sweat through his clothes as he waited for the receptionist to call his name. Thank god Natasha had been willing to come with him today. Bucky felt like he’d consumed a least a dozen cups of coffee, (when he in fact had only had three so far today, thank you very much) his hands feeling unsteady and his heart beating at an unusual pace as he tried to reign in his jitters before his appointment started.

 

Natasha was calm and collected at his side, a thankfully grounding presence to his uncharacteristic nervousness. Bucky hardly ever got nervous, but this meeting meant a lot, and he didn’t really know what he would do if he didn’t get an offer today. Cry, probably. Or maybe grow a beard. A depression beard. That might be nice. Become a hermit and find a cave to live in. Steve could paint hieroglyphics on the wall of their new rock home. The fallback plan of sexy barista was still on the table too, if this and the whole beard/cave thing didn’t pan out. Maybe he’d get Youtube famous for putting fancy designs on people’s espressos and stuff. Bucky was a few years older than he had been when this backup plan had originally been developed, but he still looked good in an apron, goddammit. He could be the Salt Bae of coffee. That’s not so bad. He would bring fresh croissants home to Steve at the end of the day, feed him little bites of fluffy buttery pastry as they lounged together by their pool (Barista Bucky had a house with a pool.)

 

“James Barnes?”

 

Natasha was pulling at his sleeve, and Bucky’s fantasy life dissolved as he found himself suddenly looking up at the warm-eyed receptionist they had checked in with. She glanced down at her clipboard, as if to confirm his name was correct. “Are you James Barnes?”

 

Bucky swallowed the ball in his throat and nodded. “Yes.”

 

The receptionist (Wanda, her name tag supplied) smiled. “Ms. Hill is ready for you.”

 

All too soon Bucky was being led to a conference room, Natasha following closely to his left. They stopped outside the closed door, and Bucky had time for one deep, calming breath before Wanda knocked briskly on the door and opened it, gesturing for them to enter.

 

Maria Hill was sitting at the table with a small pile of papers in front of her, an air of professionalism and overwhelming competence surrounding her.

 

Bucky took another breath. He had Steve. He had Nat. He had prickly potted dependents. He had talent. He could do this.

 

Bucky let his face morph into a charming smile as he stuck his hand out, completing a firm handshake with Maria as he introduced himself, then Natasha as his agent.

 

Maria’s grip was strong and reassuring and she met his eyes as she smiled. “Maria Hill. It’s a pleasure James. Let’s dive in, shall we?”

  

* * *

 

 

Bucky arrived home four hours later, a contract for his book deal in one hand, and a bottle of champagne in the other. Steve didn’t let him even take his shoes off when they had sex on the floor this time.

 

* * *

 

_[ 3 months later ]_

 

Bucky flopped back onto the bed, exhausted but pleased. He had spent the day, and actually most of the night, at Shield going over the final edits for the book, his brain feeling more like an egg on the pavement the higher the moon shifted in the sky. It was a pretty good feeling though, all things considered. The feeling of progress and change, of building towards a goal, seeing the finish line in a marathon just as your knees began to shake. Bucky loved it. He wouldn’t want to live through this revision process forever, but he was trying to soak it up as much as he could, be grateful for opportunities as they came. He knew he was lucky, a fucking special snowflake practically, to get an offer to publish not only his first piece of fiction, but also from such a prestigious company, and he wasn’t about to complain about long days or tired eyes, not when there were literally thousands of authors out there getting reject letters left and right.

 

Bucky burrowed under the covers, pressing close to Steve as he slept, trying not to wake him but needing to feel the warmth and reassurance of his body in the dark of the room. Bucky’d been busy lately, really busy, and had been leaving early and getting home late for the past few months, his schedule tight between rewrite sessions, cover design meetings, and everything in between.

 

Gentle as he was, Steve still shifted in his sleep as Bucky got comfortable, rolling over as he searched unconsciously for a more comfortable position. Steve looked tired, and not just from the late hour. There were depressions around his eyes, the dark patches made starkly apparent in the glow of the moonlight filtering into the room. Bucky tried to recall if Steve had looked this way the day before, but no memory came to the surface. He had gotten up while Steve was out for his morning run, leaving the apartment before he returned, coming home that night to a single light turned on in the entryway, Steve already asleep in the bed. It _had_ been around one o’clock in the morning or so, but he and Nat had gone for drinks after finally finishing up the revisions for chapter twenty three, and…

 

Bucky tried to remember the last time he’d come home before midnight. He couldn’t. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten dinner with Steve, or the last time they had spent the night together wrapped up on the couch, blankets and popcorn and whispered sweet nothings cradling them as the sun dipped low in the sky. He couldn’t.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Steve smile at him as daylight reflected off of summer-blue irises, sunshine and prisms gleaming in silent camaraderie with a well placed joke or a soft kiss on the cheek.  Was it a week ago? More?

 

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, pulling his eyes away from Steve’s pale face. He couldn’t look at him right now. He fixed his gaze on the exposed wood beams above the bed, but they held no sympathy. They held rigidly in place, an unquestioning anchor, never thanked for their support and strength and reliability, a quiet constant taken too easily for granted.  

 

The tears slipped out quietly as Steve slipped an arm around his waist in sleep, his face still slack with exhaustion but his body pulling closer, seeking the comfort and touch he had been so recently lacking.

 

Bucky took a wavering breath and let it out slowly.

 

Tomorrow, he promised the ceiling as he squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping himself up in sheets and warmth and Steve’s presence. Tomorrow Bucky would do better.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s eyes blinked open as the bedroom door creaked softly, Steve halfway through the door before Bucky woke enough to register his surroundings and call his name. “Steve.”

 

Steve stepped close and knelt by the bed, a white knight in outrageously tight Under Armour.

 

“Yeah Buck?”

 

A gentle hand carded through Bucky’s hair and he had to blink a few times, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut at the feeling of the motions against his scalp.

 

“Forget work today. Skip your run. Have breakfast with me.” Bucky’s words were quiet, moving cautiously into the air, an unsteady gait where footing had once been so solid and secure.

 

Steve didn’t meet his eyes, his gaze straying to Bucky’s hands as he took the left one in his own, bringing it to his mouth for a gentle kiss, a breath, an apology, before pulling away.

 

“I can’t today Buck. I have -.” A pause. “A commitment. I’m sorry. Raincheck?”

 

Bucky nodded, his throat too tight to let any words slip passed. Steve placed one more kiss on his forehead before turning and leaving the room, and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the lock to the front door click quietly into place. He had fucked it up. He had fucked it all up.

 

Bucky rolled over, staring at the ceiling as he let the emptiness of the apartment surround him, wondering how long it took for wooden beams to hold on, remain true, before they splintered and broke.

 

Three months seemed right.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super aware that this chapter ends on a fairly depressing note, so please remember I am 10000% having a happy ending here. I'm expanding into some legit *dramatic* waters, but will forever live in the fluff and humour tag, so don't forget that! There is a reason Steve is pulling away today, and there are definite sunny skies ahead, I promise! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse, but then they get better! (Part 1 of a 2 chapter upload!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry I haven't replied to comments (yet!) but I wrote TWO chapters this week, so maybe that makes up for it? This one is kind of depressing, so make sure to read the next chapter too, which will go up as soon as this one is posted! Thanks for all the love and continued support. You guys rock!! <3

 

 

Bucky made it a point to be home for dinner that night. 

 

He walked into the apartment a little after six to find Steve sitting at the breakfast bar, staring intently at his laptop, a look of concentration on his face. 

 

The closing door caused his head to snap up, and Steve’s cheeks flushed pink and he slammed the screen of the laptop shut quickly as Bucky moved towards him. 

 

Bucky tried not to flinch as Steve got up, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a slightly awkward kiss to his cheek. 

 

“Hey, you’re home!” Steve’s voice was cheery but his eyes gave him away, a weight lurking behind them that Bucky couldn’t determine the source of. This wasn’t the cute and endearing Sneaky Steve of the art show. This Steve was nervous. Bucky felt his stomach twist. He was such an idiot. How had he let things get so bad so quickly? 

 

Steve was brushing a hand over the back of his neck in a fidgety manner, not quite meeting Bucky’s eyes. 

 

“I’m glad you’re here tonight, I actually needed to talk to you.” Steve’s gaze finally lifted to meet Bucky’s, and Bucky wanted to scream at what he saw there. Steve’s usually warm, welcoming eyes were closed off and protected looking, guarding unknown secrets and hidden emotions. “I’m going to be going away for a little bit. Just for the weekend. For business.” Steve was continuing to talk, but it was hard to hear over the sound of blood rushing through Bucky’s head. 

 

Bucky’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears when he spoke. “Business?”

 

“Yah.” Steve swallowed. “There’s a gallery in Boston that’s interested in some of my work. I’ll be going down Saturday to meet with them, staying the night in the city and then coming home Sunday.” 

 

Bucky nodded his head, throat tight. This was the first he was hearing of this. It was his own fault though, he hadn’t exactly been around to take an interest in Steve lately. 

 

Bucky had managed to get the weekend off, everything done now as the books were off to the printers, getting prepped for distribution on their release date next week. He had hoped to spend the few days before it’s release with Steve, to make up for some lost time, but that wasn’t really in the cards anymore. Unless…

 

“Maybe, if I could get the time off, I could come with you? Have a weekend away together?” Bucky didn’t want to show his hand yet for some reason, Steve’s odd behaviour and his own insecurity wanting him to see Steve’s reaction to his suggestion first. 

 

To his horror, Steve’s expression fell, and Bucky could see him fumbling for an excuse. “I don’t… I don’t think that would be a good idea Buck. I’ll probably just be in meetings the whole time, it’ll be boring for you. And you’re busy anyways, right? You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Steve threw a strained smile in his direction, his eyes tight. 

 

Bucky nodded again, not trusting his own voice. 

 

Steve stepped close and placed a small kiss on his lips, feather-light and soft, before speaking again. “Ok then.” He pulled away, moving towards the bedroom. “I’m gonna take a quick shower before dinner.” He went into the ensuite and Bucky followed a beat later, taking a moment first to close his eyes and press the tears back. Steve had already shut the bathroom door and Bucky could hear the water running. He hesitated outside the door, heart thumping, and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was overreacting. It had only been a few months of this chaos, surely not enough to destroy everything he and Steve had built together. It was one denied breakfast date, and now a clashing of schedules. No reason to be so upset. There was just so much happening at once. His book was coming out in a week, seven fucking days, and he was running on minimal sleep and maximum stress, coffee and protein bars barely sustaining him through the past few days. He needed a long shower and a decent meal. He needed a weekend in bed with his boyfriend. He needed a hug. 

 

He couldn’t let this go any longer. They needed to talk, to fix things.

 

As his hand came down to rest on the handle to the door, Bucky suddenly heard Steve’s voice, low and hushed, speaking into his cell phone over the pitter-patter of the water hitting the shower floor. “Yes, I’m still able to make it. I’m looking forward to it too, it’s been too long.” A pause. “He doesn’t know about it. I’ll explain when I get there...” 

 

Bucky pulled his ear away from the door, the nausea in his stomach moving quickly up his throat, burning a path along his tongue. He pushed away from the door and moved quickly back to the kitchen, leaning on the breakfast bar as he suppressed the urge to dry heave and tried to center himself, tried to reason with what this could mean. He sat down heavily in the chair Steve had occupied minutes ago, the closed laptop sitting forlorn and forgotten on the obsidian countertop. Bucky hated himself in that moment, but he lifted the lid anyways, nowhere to go but down. The last page Steve had been browsing blinked back to life. Driving directions to DC. 

 

Bucky’s body moved slowly, like he was submerged in molasses, as he grabbed a piece of paper off his desk and scrawled a note out to Steve,  _ called in to work, be home late,  _ and set it on the countertop, closing the laptop again as he passed it. He took his coat off the hanger and slipped his shoes back on, every motion feeling mechanical and stiff as he closed the door behind him and started walking. 

 

He was gone for twenty minutes before a text dinged onto his phone, the message from Steve saying he was sorry to hear that, but would he please be home Sunday when Steve got back, because he wanted to talk to him about something important? 

 

Bucky tapped out a reply to confirm, yes, he would be there, the  _ I love you  _ tacked on to the end feeling foolish, but no less true. 

 

Bucky got drunk alone at a bar that night and fell heavily into bed at two in the morning, Steve sleeping peacefully beside him. 

 

When he woke up the next day, hungover and exhausted, Steve’s side of the bed was already cold.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the 2 chapter upload!

 

 

Bucky was a bit of a mess by the time Sunday rolled around. He was pacing in the living room, wringing his hands when he heard Steve’s key in the door. They hadn’t actually spoken all weekend, just sent a handful of texts back and forth to keep updated on when Steve would be returning, Steve assuming Bucky was at work, and Bucky assuming Steve was-. Otherwise occupied. He couldn’t quite let his mind go there again, not without undeniable evidence, without knowing for sure. That logic didn’t stop his heart from squeezing painfully in his chest as he considered the possibilities though. Every last fucking one of them. He trusted Steve, he _knew_ Steve, but everything added together? It didn’t paint a pretty picture.

 

Steve was walking through the door a moment later, a tired but happy smile on his face, but it immediately dropped off when he took in Bucky’s expression. Bucky hadn’t looked in a mirror yet today, but he knew he wasn’t at 100% right now. He was probably at like, 3% or something, with the way he felt. It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept the night before, and had been crying for most of the morning.

 

Steve dropped his bag by the door and immediately rushed over, pulling Bucky into his arms. Bucky went willingly, wanting to soak up every inch of Steve while he still had the chance, while he could still call Steve his.

 

Bucky’s eyes were burning as he pressed his face into Steve’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent and wrapping his arms tightly around him. He’d been so stupid, letting this go for a stupid fucking book. Nothing was worth losing Steve over.

 

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s throat was raw but he needed to get the words out. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I love you. Please don’t leave.”

 

Steve held him tight and kissed his tear-stained cheeks before pulling back to look Bucky in the eye. “What’s - Buck, what do you mean? I’m not going anywhere. What’s wrong?” Steve’s voice was soft and concerned and his thumbs were sweeping over Bucky’s cheeks in a soothing gesture.

 

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Time to lay it all on the table, and hope it wasn’t too late to repair the damage.

 

“I know you didn’t go to Boston this weekend for a meeting.”

 

Steve’s face went pale, but Bucky shook his head, silently begging Steve to let him finish. He didn’t speak, but his lips pressed together like he had to physically restrain himself from jumping in with an explanation.  

 

Bucky met Steve’s eyes as he gathered his thoughts, the crushing weight in his chest almost overwhelming now. He had to do this though. He couldn’t lose Steve. He couldn’t. “Wherever you were, whoever you were with, it doesn’t matter. I don’t-” Bucky almost choked on his words and had to swallow down a fresh wave of emotion. “I don’t blame you. I haven’t been here, I’ve been ignoring you. I’ve been too wrapped up in my own head lately, with the book. But I don’t want this to be the end Steve. I want to make things right again.”

 

Steve’s eyes were filling with tears, and he pulled Bucky even closer to him then, crushing him to his chest for a heartstopping moment. “No Buck, no no no.” Bucky had never seen Steve look quite so heartbroken yet determined before, not even when the truth about his profession had come out in the Catskills. This Steve looked like he wanted to burn down the world to make Bucky understand. “I’m not- I would never. Never, Bucky, no matter what happened between us, or how busy we get. I will never, ever do that to you. I haven’t done that to you.” Blue eyes were wet and pleading, words thick and heartfelt, begging to be heard. “I was.” Steve made an exasperated noise, a huff of air, and ran a hand through his hair quickly before placing it back on Bucky’s waist, holding tight, expression bashful as his cheeks flushed pink. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

 

Bucky’s head was spinning. “How- wait, what? How was what supposed to go?”

 

Steve’s cheeks were definitely red now, eyes softening through the wash of unshed tears to the clear blue Bucky loved to see. He raised one hand to Bucky’s jaw, tilting his head up to keep their eyes locked, their bodies still pressed close together. “The woman I went to see this weekend? It was your mom, Buck.”

 

Bucky blinked. “What?”

 

“I went to DC to see your mother, because I needed to talk to her. I needed.” Steve sighed, long and weary, but his eyes were brightening up even more now, creasing at the corners, as if he couldn’t help but smile, an invisible weight coming off his shoulders. “I needed to ask her for permission to marry you.”

 

Bucky was suddenly thankful that Steve was holding his jaw, because it would have hit the floor otherwise.

 

“You.” Bucky had no words to finish that sentence. There were actually no words left in the universe, he was fairly sure of it. “I. You.” Bucky wasn’t making sense now, he was probably in the midst of a stroke, or the middle of a dream. This was an alternate universe, and he really was a barista. This proved it.

 

“Buck.” Steve was crying and smiling now, his arms still holding Bucky close oh so carefully, eyes loving and sincere. “It’s always been you. Never, ever doubt that.” He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple before squeezing him tighter. “I’m sorry I had to lie about the weekend, I just didn’t want to give anything away. You’ve been so stressed out lately, I just wanted to give you some space and figured the week before your launch would be as good a time as any, since you’ve been so busy. I wasn’t trying to pull away.”

 

“Steve.” Bucky’s brain was still trying to wrap around the ‘ _marry you’_ part of Steve’s speech, but his brain, overwhelmed as it was right now, was starting to piece his other words together into coherent thoughts. “But. I’ve been away. I’ve been ignoring you.”

 

Steve didn’t reply to that, but the look on his face was lovingly amused. _Oh, you beautiful idiot,_ it said. And in that moment, Bucky knew, he _had_ been a beautiful idiot. This was _Steve._ Steve, who played in the dirt with kids, who carefully watered cacti, who held Bucky close on dark nights and filled up his days and empty spots with warmth and light and a complete and utter sense of home. Steve, who asked Bucky’s own mother, in person, if he could marry her son.

 

She better of said yes.

 

“Did my mom say yes?”

 

Steve nodded, glistening eyes matching Bucky’s own.

 

“And the day you said no to breakfast?”

 

Steve looked distraught by the memory, but didn’t break eye contact. “I had an appointment that morning to pick up the ring. It killed me to leave you alone in bed that day, but the only thing I wanted more than a morning in bed with you was a morning in bed with my husband. Or fiancé, I guess. You know.”

 

“Dammit Steve.” Bucky was blinking like a son of a bitch, but his eyes were overflowing currently. Fucking Steve and his big stupid fucking heart.

 

“So, Buck-” Steve had that look on his face that meant he was ramping up to something. Bucky couldn’t allow that. Not like this.

 

“Nope. Don’t ask me yet, that’s not how I’m getting asked.”

 

Steve blinked.

 

“How did you want to ask me? If things had gone according to plan?”

 

The blush resumed tenfold, and Steve tucked his face into Bucky’s neck. “It’s stupid.”

 

“Steve, if you thought of it, I can 100% believe it is very much not stupid.”

 

“It doesn’t really matter now-”

 

“Steve.”

 

“I mean-”

 

“Steve. Fucking propose to me the way you wanted to. Or else I won’t say yes.”

 

Summer-blue eyes were narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“Try me.”

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, they were in the middle of a fucking lake in a big-ass swan boat.

 

Bucky's legs hurt.

 

Steve had the fucking gall to make him help with the paddling, because _‘marriage is a partnership Buck, and I don’t know if I can propose to someone who won’t even help me paddle to the proposal.’_

 

This fucking guy.

 

So Bucky had helped, and now Steve was trying to wedge himself in the little space between the pedals and the moulded seat, but it was basically impossible because of his whole insane body proportion thing (honestly, that shoulder to waist ratio was a _travesty)_ so Steve had to settle for leaning across the little steering stick console thing instead of assuming any sort of kneeling position.

 

The position didn’t really matter in the end though, because by the time they paddled back to shore together, Bucky had a ring on his finger and his future husband by his side.

 

Steve also bought him ice cream from the little cart by the lake, so it was pretty much the best day in the history of the universe, as far as Bucky was concerned.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!! They're gonna be together foreverrrrrr, like they are 100% meant to be. Thanks for sticking through my attempts to write angst and emotion, I feel way more comfortable writing fluff and humour but it was good to branch out and try something new! Let me know in the comments if you're liking things!! <3 <3 <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay in posting! I hope you enjoy the final chapter! <3

 

 

It was the day of the book launch, and James Buchanan Barnes had a cold. A fucking common ass, stupid fucking cold. On the day of his book launch.

 

“Steeb. Please. I neeb to get up.” He was currently trying to wrangle his way of out the nest of blankets and pillows distributed on the couch, but was being gently yet effectively pushed back down by careful, too-warm hands, much to his utter astonishment and fury. When had he transformed from a soon-to-be flourishing author into a baby bird? Bucky expected that he would have remembered something like that happening, but his body felt like he had been a baby bird forever by this point. (It had been a day and a half long illness so far, after all. Fucking outrageous.) He tried to remember what it felt like to be well, once upon a time, but he couldn’t. Bucky was the bird. In the nest. He knew of no other existence. This was his new life. But he wouldn’t go willingly into that good baby bird night, oh no. He had a book to promote.

 

“Buck, we’ve been over this, you need to rest up. Natasha is handling the launch, and let the store you were appearing at know that you couldn’t make it in. It’s fine. Right now, you need to sleep. You’re in no condition to go out and meet people.” Steve’s blue eyes were earnest and sincere as they peered into Bucky’s tired grey ones, and his soft words were slipping down Bucky’s spine gracefully, curling around him like the steam rising off his mug of carefully brewed tea. The combination of eyes and voice and tea fumes made Bucky want to slip into a baby bird sleep coma. The nest _was_ soft, and it had his favourite blanket in it. There were also snacks and cold pills within reach. Good stuff, these things. Nest appropriate. But, he had a book to launch.

 

“But Steeb.” Bucky was flailing helplessly still, and Steve reached over to pull Bucky’s favourite (now, former favourite, the traitor) blanket out from it’s squished position beside him, spreading it out and tucking it snugly under Bucky’s body, the tight pull of the fabric effectively trapping his flapping limbs. “Noooo.” The ‘no’ was punctuated with a hacking cough at the end, Bucky’s eyes watering as his body betrayed him in favour of illness. First the blanket, then his flesh temple. Both backstabbers. No one could be trusted, it seemed.

 

Steve, gentle soul/sexy nurse, lifted the tea mug to Bucky’s lips and let him take a careful sip before raising an ‘are you really gonna fight me on this?’ eyebrow in his direction. Steve had a very expressive face and didn’t always need words, as Bucky was a master at reading his body language by now, his eyebrows being particularly easy to translate. It was a developed skill, and one he was quite proud of. Bucky swallowed the life-giving beverage and leaned back into the pillows, resigned to his fate. He was not leaving the couch today. The tilt of those eyebrows left no room to argue.

 

“But I’m gonna miss my launch…” Bucky was suddenly incredibly saddened by this fact. He was so tired and his head and his throat felt funny and nothing about today was going as he imagined it. Everything ever was terrible (except Steve. Steve was still perfect.)

 

Steve set the tea down and suddenly a familiar hand was cupping Bucky’s jaw, making downcast grey meet summer-sky blue. “You know what you’re doing Buck? You’re cultivating mystery. That’s what you’re doing.”

 

Bucky blinked. He… he liked mystery. And cultivating it. “Yeah?”

 

Steve nodded, encouraged by the twitch of a smile looming at the edge of his fiancé’s lips, the spark of interest flaring in his eyes. “Yeah. You’re this mysterious, groundbreaking new author, not even able to be at his own launch. Because maybe, you’re... “ Blue eyes glanced up to the ceiling for a minute, thoughts of tall tales and folklore coming together in a quest for reassurance. “Maybe you’re royalty. A prince in a far off land. And you’re needed in your kingdom today, the needs of your loyal subjects always coming first.”

 

Bucky’s eyes were wide and engaged now. “A space prince?” Steve wasn’t sure if his breathlessness was from the sickness or the story, but he could run with this, if it made Bucky feel better.

 

“Yah.” Steve nodded quickly. “A space prince. You came from Earth but live on another planet, a prince of the people. You write in your spare time but have an obligation to your subjects, of course. If you were to go today, make yourself known to the people of Earth, your planet would be discovered, risking everyone in your civilization. We can’t have that.”

 

“No. Never.” Bucky was shaking his head vigorously, totally in agreement about protecting the needs of fictional space people. Steve smiled.

 

“If anyone found out your true identity, that the space wars were real…”

 

“... It would be catastrophic.” Bucky finished Steve’s train of thought, visions of far-off galaxies and forbidden alliances dancing behind slowly closing eyes.

 

“Yah Buck.” Steve’s voice was soft and Bucky was enfolded in it, floating in his imagination with the lilt of his words and the flow of his breath. “So you should probably stay home today.”

 

Bucky nodded sleepily before giving in to the weight of his eyelids and allowing them to slip shut, sleep wrapping around him like the warm (now forgiven) blanket he favoured. “Ok Steve. Next time can I go though?”

 

Bucky didn’t get to see Steve’s smile this time but he could hear it in his voice as he slipped off to sleep. “Yah Bucky. Next time, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky woke up the next day, Peggy Parallax and the Cosmic Distance Ladder was the #1 selling book in America, and he had twenty-seven new voicemails on his phone, most of them from friends and family members congratulating him, and one from Shield asking if he would consider a series.

 

Bucky nestled closer to Steve on the couch, his head feeling much more clear and his heart full as he held Steve’s hand with his left while using his right to dial Maria. Steve was turning the ring on Bucky’s finger absentmindedly as he fiddled with his phone, booking another gallery for his latest art installment, and he shot Bucky a warm smile as they waited for the call to connect. They were doing this, together, and Bucky felt his heart swell as he looked at Steve, his fiancé, his future husband, and thought of how far they’d come. From a tumble down a soggy hill and an ill-advised fake relationship, to blueberry bushes and apartment hunting, terrifying car crashes and panda shoes, art openings and novels. Whatever came next, they would face it together. Bucky swallowed and squeezed Steve’s hand.

 

“Maria, it’s James. I got your message, thank you for the offer. How do you feel about Peggy Parallax meeting a space prince?”

 

* * *

 

 

The next time James Barnes released a novel, he was at the launch for it, crowds of fans eagerly awaiting his appearance. His husband waited among them, a proud, adoring smile on his face and a matching ring on his finger as he watched his partner be celebrated for his work.

 

At home, two well-loved cacti plants sat on a window ledge, keeping each other company as they waited for their roommates to get home. They turned their needles towards the sun and let the afternoon light wash over them, feeling content and warm in their place in the world. When their roommates got home later that night, they averted their eyes, as always, when clothing was removed and loving endearments were whispered between beams of moonlight. The cacti didn’t mind when this happened, frequent as it was. They loved their roommates too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I've been doing some serious contemplation for this series and have decided this will be the last installment for now. I hope the wrapping up doesn't seem too abrupt, but I've been struggling to feel the spark I felt writing these guys in the beginning and I don't want to force it and put out less than stellar work. I may eventually revisit to write little missing scenes, but it's not coming as easily as it once was, so I think I need to step away from this particular universe for a little bit. (I'll still be writing Stucky fics, just not the Investigative Journalism version of them.) I literally got teary writing the ending, because I have LOVED writing this world, and can't thank you guys enough for sticking it out with me. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, I am so thankful for your love! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos continue to give me life and cacti writing skills. Thanks for the love! <3


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